


The Shapes We Make

by little_abyss, ponticle



Series: Agony and Audacity [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hotel Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponticle/pseuds/ponticle
Summary: Isabela's back may be against the wall, but there's nowhere else she wants to be.





	The Shapes We Make

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely in ponticle's [Careful Constructs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961742) universe... wherein Morrigan and Isabela settle into a long term relationship under unusual circumstances.

* * *

_Whuff_.

Isabela’s back hits the wall with a thud and the air gusts out of her lungs, but the accompanying gasp isn’t indicative of anything painful. It’s shock; it’s excitement; it’s _perfect_.

“I missed you,” says Morrigan between kisses. It doesn’t seem like the time for something kind or gentle, but it _is_ , even amidst all the pushing she’s doing and the way she shoves her hand down Isabela’s pants. It’s the time for this and more — for everything — after all the time they’ve spent on opposite sides of the sea.

Isabela wants to _help_ ; it’s a reflex, so she struggles out of her shirt and rips off her bra. She’s about to unbutton her fly when Morrigan stops her.

“I’ve got it,” snaps Morrigan, leering threateningly.

Isabela raises her palms, managing to laugh, despite the pull in her guts and dampness between her legs. “Okay…” The laugh leaves as suddenly as it came, though, when Morrigan grabs her wrist and pins it back against the wallpaper.

“I can’t seem to trust you with your hands free,” says Morrigan cooly. She smiles to expose one sharp canine — a sure sign that she’s about to do something Isabela finds vaguely terrifying and incredibly arousing — before leaning in to kiss a line down Isabela’s neck. She bears her teeth against one collar bone and sucks the skin into her mouth until it stings. Without looking down, she deftly undoes Isabela’s pants and pushes them down past her knees, leaving her bare and desperate.

Isabela shifts, frustratedly stepping out of her clothes, kicking them somewhere peripheral, trying in vain to capture one of Morrigan’s slender legs between her own thighs. She just needs the _tiniest_ bit of friction. “Please, god… fuck me.”

Morrigan looks up, one of Isabela’s nipples caught between her lips, and studies her — eyes darting back and forth across Isabela’s face. “How?” she asks.

Isabela shivers; even after everything — all this time and every gorgeous, devious thing they’ve ever done together, she doesn’t know what to call _it_. She _does_ know what she wants, though, and she thinks Morrigan wants it too. “Here. Against this wall. With… your cock.”

Morrigan is quick, then — across the room, fastening buckles and tightening straps. It’s a thing Isabela has watched happen a lot, but she doesn’t know the details. Something about it seems sacred — a ritual to which Isabela doesn’t want to be privy. This is a _private_ transformation.

 

When they’re again face to face, Morrigan leans in and kisses Isabela  deep and full. Their tongues touch and teeth almost clack together at the force. Morrigan grabs at Isabela’s left hip and forces the knee up and around her waist. And in the moment that Isabela’s mouth is open and her arms wide, she misses the beginning. There’s nothing to stop Isabela’s ass scraping against the textured wallpaper behind her, the tip of her tailbone banging into the wall, but she doesn’t care. It’s the closest they can be, after all, and considering the amount of space they usually have to tolerate, Isabela will do anything for this proximity.

Morrigan groans, then — a resonant, guttural sound that catches Isabela off guard.

“Are you okay?” gasps Isabela. Her voice is broken and she stutters. “Do you feel... good?”

Morrigan barks a laugh. “God, yes. This is… _incredibly_ hot — you are… incredibly, incredibly hot.”

And it’s not the first time Isabela has heard that — lots of people have said something similar between her legs — but this feels different. It feels like a challenge she wants to meet — like something she wants to prove to Morrigan more thoroughly every day that they’re fortunate enough to occupy the same space.

“Touch yourself,” says Morrigan suddenly. “Don’t you _want_ to?”

Isabela nods, obeying without thinking. She trails her fingers down, across her stomach, and reaches for her clit. It’s hard to get the right rhythm like this, with her cunt stretched apart and her rib cage crushed against the wall, but she’s close already. She’s dying to know if Morrigan is feeling similarly edgy — if she’s as near to falling apart as Isabela is — but she knows better than to ask. Even when Morrigan is _coming_ , she’s poised… silent… austere… _breathtaking_ …

...and it’s with that thought that Isabela’s own breath leaves her. She gasps, grabbing onto Morrigan’s shoulder with her free hand. Her eyes screw shut and she leans, trying desperately not to fall over.

It’s in these moments that Isabela wishes she could see them from the outside — the shapes they make when they’re one piece — but since she can’t, she has to imagine… so she gives in, dropping her head into the space between Morrigan’s neck and shoulder, mouthing the skin until she finds the strength to form words. And there’s only one thing there when she does. It’s overused and inexact and it feels _stupid_ , but she means it:

 _“I love you_.”

* * *

 


End file.
